


Fallen from Blinding Heights

by 108am



Category: SS501
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Dark, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Dark Past, Delusions, Guilt, Horror, Insanity, Isolation, LiveJournal Prompt, Loneliness, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Psychological Trauma, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/108am/pseuds/108am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jungmin creates his own Hell on earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen from Blinding Heights

**Author's Note:**

> [gyonggo's fic challenge](http://gyonggo.livejournal.com/329530.html) \- [**Prompt:** 08\. Sanity](http://108am.livejournal.com/44042.html)
> 
> * * *
> 
> This went off in a completely different direction than what I had originally in mind. ;-;

_The darkness is coming. The world will end soon._

Jungmin didn’t understand that message when he first heard it. To him, it was just another disjointed superstitious thought from KyuJong. KyuJong was always like that, he had thought. His mind was very unwell and would continue to be so, and while Jungmin felt a little guilty about doing it, the only thing he could do was patronize the other man by going along with his ill statements.

After all, it was his fault KyuJong was like that.

 

 

It was Sunday, and Jungmin paced around KyuJong’s room, trying to find anything to occupy his mind. Occasionally, he would stop his striding, turning his attention over to the lone chair by the window, and the quiet man sitting in it. He often wondered what went on in KyuJong’s mind that led to his dark conclusion, but there really was no point in asking him upfront.

The same blank stare would always be his response.

 

 

It was Monday, and Jungmin was in the kitchen making KyuJong’s lunch. As the congee cooked in the pot, he chopped the coriander, listening as each hack took him back to the days that lead up to the tragedy.

 

 

(He was six again, and he was holding his mother’s hand as they walked to their new neighbor’s apartment. She had pushed the doorbell, waiting as the voices inside quieted and footsteps became louder. The door opened to reveal a beautiful woman with a little girl and boy about the same age as him hiding behind her legs.

He only remembered polite, pleasant mumblings from the adults, and the other boy smiling shyly at him.

“I’m KyuJong,” he had said before ducking his head behind his mother’s leg again, only to step out a second later more confidently when Jungmin returned the friendly greeting.)

 

 

Almost as if this simple act would assuage the guilt he carried, Jungmin carefully arranged the tray he would always carry, making sure that the bowl, water glass, and utensils were where they have always been for the past couple of years.

With each step he took, the flashback resumed in his mind.

 

 

(They were on the playground. Jungmin, KyuJong, and even KyuJong’s little sister. They were playing tag, and Jungmin was it. He chased after the other two, narrowly missing each one as they darted across the dusty playground, laughing and taunting. Eventually he narrowed his target onto KyuJong, following after the boy as he climbed on the spider’s web.

In spite of how unreliable his childish mind was, he could still remember the piercing screams that followed after he grabbed onto KyuJong’s foot, unintentionally causing the other boy to lose his balance that contributed to his fall through the gap.

He wasn’t moving, Jungmin remembered. He laid there, arms and legs twisted in abnormal positions. He never remembered approaching the body, but he must have, for there was no other reason for KyuJong’s sister to scream at him to leave her big brother alone.

They were suddenly in the hospital. KyuJong’s parents were crying as a doctor tried unsuccessfully to console the grief-stricken family. KyuJong’s sister cried and cried, begging to see her brother, and before Jungmin knew it, she started slapping him, kicking him, anything to ease her pain until her father pulled her away to show Jungmin’s reddened, scarred face. She’d never stopped screaming at him. The adults told him it was just a tragic accident, but she swore she would never let him forget what he did to her beloved brother.

And Jungmin knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness.)

 

 

“You need to eat,” Jungmin gently coaxed the older man, placing the tray on the table adjacent to the window.

“Happy…happy…birthday…”

Jungmin froze in place; his hands trembled as he slowly looked at KyuJong. In his lap was a picture frame placed facedown. Hesitantly, Jungmin pried it from KyuJong, shaking again when he found himself staring at a familiar young woman in the picture.

“Do—do you remember who she is?”

“Baby sister won’t cry anymore,” KyuJong said, not seemingly directed at Jungmin’s question. “Baby sister is one year older, baby sister won’t cry anymore, baby sister is safe.”

“Please forgive me,” Jungmin whispered, falling to his knees, and burying his head in KyuJong’s lap.

“Baby sister sweet dreams always.”

 

 

(He was thirteen, and KyuJong’s sister continued to tell him that it was his fault her brother became this way.

“ _You did this to him._ You’re nothing but a jinx. The adults lied; they all hate you for what you did to oppa. No one loves you, not even Him. Don’t ever show your face to oppa again!”

“I-I know…You’re right…”)

 

 

It was Tuesday, and Jungmin meandered through the house, mind only full of the cryptic messages KyuJong continued to relay.

_Mother, Father…in…tonight you won’t cry._

_He is coming, He is coming, He spares no pity for wicked people._

_We are all wicked creatures._

Jungmin stopped his walking, leaning against the wall, hoping to somehow force those thoughts back into oblivion. His breathing grew shallower as it seemed almost as if the voices in his head grew louder, slowly but surely seizing whatever soundness was left within his guilt-ridden mind.

He gasped, his head snapping back up when he heard KyuJong’s soft voice beckoning him from down the hall. Without another thought, he ran into the room, stopping only to stare in shock at the fallen chair and KyuJong lying on the ground next to it, eyes devoid of all feelings.

Jungmin walked closer, gently pulling him up, but his legs gave out and he fell back on the ground with KyuJong lying on top of him. His heart stopped when he heard KyuJong spoke: “I fell. He came to get me, but I fell.”

 

 

It was Wednesday, and the sun disappeared.

Jungmin had managed to convince KyuJong to leave the room, but it had been a while since KyuJong had a chance to properly exercise, so his legs were a little wobbly from prolonged idleness. He stood up, took a step, and his legs gave out.

For the rest of the way, Jungmin guided the other man patiently, watching as he moved like a newborn deer. They walked around the garden outside, listening to only the wind, because no other animal or people resided near their quaint little house.

After half an hour, KyuJong spoke, “You’re a sinful man.”

Jungmin was quiet, and then, “Yes, yes, I am.”

“I also have sinned.”

Jungmin was quiet.

 

 

It was Thursday, and insomnia came to visit Jungmin.

Demons and evil spirits were not real, he told himself, mind suddenly flashing exaggerated scenes of malevolent beings from horror movies. Ghosts and goblins were only children’s nightmares, but not reality. Werewolves, vampires, and zombies were just ridiculous.

In spite of his repeated thoughts, Jungmin found himself believing in demons and evil spirits, because he felt safer thinking these malign beings were the cause of crimes and not a human’s own conscious decision.

 

 

(He was seventeen, and there was blood everywhere.

Police barrier tape surrounded their apartment building, summoning curious pedestrians to crowd behind the yellow line. Nosy reporters pushed through, asking— _demanding_ –for information regarding the crime that had happened in that one apartment.

Blood splattered the walls, and on one of them, “there is no salvation all is lost” was spelled out in distressed crimson. Beneath it, Jungmin sat there, cradling his frightened friend as he tried to make sense of the situation.)

 

 

KyuJong woke up in the middle of the dark night, screaming and crying “He is coming, He is coming, He is coming” until his voice broke. Jungmin stayed with him for the rest of the night, knowing sleep wasn’t even on his own agenda anyway. Besides, KyuJong needed him.

 

 

(They were in the police station. Jungmin was talking, but he couldn’t even understand anything that left his mouth. He took his eyes off of the person listening to his account, seeing a bloodied KyuJong looking around the station with childlike curiosity and fear.

Someone approached KyuJong, and before Jungmin could even tell the person off, his attention was forced to return to the earlier explanation.)

 

 

KyuJong was sweating and burning up. His pitiful whimpers pained Jungmin, inadvertently revealing how useless the younger man knew he was.

 

 

(KyuJong was arrested. He looked like an abused puppy, completely abandoned, but still capable of showing love for those that spoke just a single kind word to him. He nuzzled Jungmin’s cheek briefly before being pulled away.

“Love you…love you…friends forever…two…two of us…”)

 

 

KyuJong was getting sicker—mentally and physically.

 

 

(He left a trail of blood, and the sky wept. Jungmin was desperate—he didn’t know what else to do.)

 

 

All…

Was…

Lost.

 

 

(They were on the run, returning to their past homes only briefly to gather a few necessity and memorabilia. They escaped to the country, finding an old abandoned house a good distance away from the nearest civilization as a perfect haven for their messed up lives.

They began a new life, and the demons continued to return.)

 

 

It was Friday, and the night sky was the blackest thing Jungmin had ever seen in his life.

“There is no hope,” KyuJong murmured, his eyes were unfocused. He gripped Jungmin’s wrist tightly, digging his nails into the flesh until thin streams of blood seeped. The pained hiss brought him back to reality. For a moment, he gazed at the blood, almost as if he was unable to process what he saw before him. A few seconds later, he whispered his apology so quietly it was almost as if he had never said it.

“There are no stars,” Jungmin began, using his shirt to clean his bloodied wrist. “Not even a moon, or—Kyu?“

KyuJong’s body shook violently until he fell out of the chair, where, for a moment, he was still, and then the violent spasms returned. Jungmin stared in shocked, watching as his eyes rolled to the back of his head until all he saw were whites.

“Dear Go—Kyu! KyuJong, sn-snap out of it—”

KyuJong stopped moving. Jungmin knelt down, hesitantly touching him in an attempt to stir him out of his state. He didn’t move. Jungmin tried again, and was met with the same result.

_The darkness is coming._

Jungmin swallowed, shaking the sudden thought out of his head.

_The world will end soon._

Jungmin didn’t know what else to do. _His_ world had already stopped in a flash. He murmured silent pleas, trying hard to swallow the cries that were bound to escape. Finally, he did not care anymore.

No one was around anyway. He—like KyuJong—had always been the forsaken little lamb, so what did it matter? No one had ever heard him, and so, no one would ever hear him.

He screamed.

 

 

Was KyuJong some sort of prophet? Jungmin did not really give a damn. He just didn’t want to be abandoned and alone in this messed up world.

He staggered to his bedroom, rummaging through the closet and drawer, before turning his listless attention over to his bed.

The mattress, he thought, stumbling over to his bed. He flipped the mattress over, laughing hollowly as he found a gun resting in the middle. He carried it with him back to KyuJong’s room; his eyes immediately went to the still man.

Jungmin sat beneath the window, propping KyuJong up and allowing his head to fall on Jungmin’s shoulder. He kissed KyuJong’s forehead, whispering a soft apology. He fingered the gun, and broke down. “It’s all my fault. She’s right, she’s always been right, but I can’t,” his voice cracked, “I can’t be without you. I’m weak. Weak, useless, and lonely.”

The gun went off.

 

 

It was Saturday.

The fallen angels slept a ceaseless slumber.


End file.
